


You're Drunk, Hemmings.

by angstymuke



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: 5 Seconds Of Summer Imagines, 5SOS - Freeform, Angst, Drunk Luke, Gay, Implied Michael Clifford/Luke Hemmings, Love/Hate, M/M, Minor Calum Hood/Ashton Irwin, Muke - Freeform, Sad Michael, angsty michael, drunk angst, mukeclemmings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 13:38:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3612054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angstymuke/pseuds/angstymuke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Michael is just so fucking sick of Luke's drunken claims.<br/>(love/hate muke)</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Drunk, Hemmings.

“Hemmings, you’re drunk. Get off me.” A loud, outward groan escaped from the now blue haired Michael Clifford’s mouth; as his lanky bandmate stumbled over his legs until eventually using him as a post to keep the blonde upright.  
Michael looked around the band’s backstage area, hoping to be able to shove Luke into the safe hands of Ashton or Calum. The two entered the room at that very moment, but much to his annoyance, even more drunk than tree boy.  
‘Am I seriously the only sober one here?’ He huffed, having only his mind to turn to now. ‘Think Clifford, think. Luke is an emotional, and extremely clingy drunk. You can’t leave him here with Ash and Cal; they’ll be fucking in no time and this idiot will get spooked.’  
Truth was, Michael didn’t even know why he doesn’t just pack up and leave right now. He could’ve been home and tucked in his warm bed an hour ago. So why was he stuck here worrying about the pretty boy who ignored him until he needed something. Or was drunk.  
Why did he scare away that drunk who tried to take Luke home?  
Why didn’t he send that video of him grinding on some girl earlier to Liz?  
He had been used so many times.  
“Why am I still protecting hi-“  
“Mikeeeeeeeeey!!” Michael’s muttering was interrupted by a squeal from the much too awake for his liking Luke, as the boy pouted, motioning to his Metallica shirt, now covered in drunk vomit.  
Michael’s nose crinkled up at this. The way that even drunk Luke still finds his mind screaming at how cute it was. One of the many things he loved to hate about Michael; just how fucking adorable that boy his. How both his nose and eyes crinkle up when he finds something funny, and laughs so much that a little squeak and giggle find their way into the mess. How, although Michael acted so tough, when it came to Luke, he was weak. He would whimper at any insult, and only manage to come back with a ‘shut up Luke’. He had so much power over Michael, and although he knew he hurt the boy, something inside him loved it. He loved Michael with all he has, well, Michael is all he has; but for the love of God could only express it in hatred.  
Michael couldn’t and would never know how much Luke loves him, so Luke keeps hurting him.  
And Michael loves Luke.  
So he stays.  
And so he helps Luke get cleaned up, this time with no angry curses that drunk Luke would just giggle at, not understanding.  
And he gives Luke his huge sweater (that he just maybe bought in hope of it fitting them both for situations like this).  
And suddenly, the pair are stumbling back to the hotel; Michael struggling to support Luke’s entire body on just his back. “Don’t you realise that you’re basically a tree, mister”, he grumbled, shooting their security guard an apologetic look for the hissy fit Luke was throwing in the lobby just minutes ago, until the colourful haired boy gave in and started carrying him.  
Luke however just continued giggling happily, tugging at Michael’s hair as he tried, not fast to be successful, in unlocking the room Luke and Ashton shared. “Your hair is so pretty Mikey…” The boy breathed heavily near Michael’s ear, as he froze up. Butterflies were flittering around in his stom- No. Fuck that cutesy shit. His stomach was twisting up as a new feeling awoke in him.  
Luke had just complimented his hair. It wasn’t much, but Michael was always one to overreact. Luke had always told him his hair looked gay. Well, he is, but that isn’t the point.  
And Luke was just so close to him, his lips were nearly touching his neck. He could feel that damn lipring. “Luke, I think you should sleep.” He whispered, not knowing how much he could take of the drunk boy, and placed him down on the shared bed of Ashton and Luke. Nothing was between them, he knew, he still couldn’t stop the pang of sadness though.  
Oh.  
Luke was drunk. Right.  
There was no way he would purposely be this close to Michael sober. He almost forgot that.  
Seeming it was way past midnight, he turned to leave, but not before placing a kiss on the blonde’s forehead- knowing it was his only chance. As he went to pull back however, Luke made grabby hands for him to lean in closer.  
Within seconds, Michael was pinned down on the bed, under the strong grip of Luke Hemmings. “Luke, what are y-“,  
Cut off by a strong kiss just screaming ‘shut-up-and-kiss-me’; Michael felt himself melt under the piercing gaze of his so called ‘arch-enemy’ that he loves so much, but whom hates him so much. Blue met green, their lips molded together, and suddenly the strong hips above him were grinding down on his, like no tomorrow.  
Michael then remembered something prodding in the back of his mind, which he wished he hadn’t.  
So, with all the strength he had left;  
Michael pushed Luke away.  
Their lips separated with a soft ‘smack’ noise. Michael’s pale finger tips traced his puffy, makeout lips- as the blonde across from him grinned. It was when Luke began to nuzzle his head in the crook of Michael’s pale neck, nipping and sucking at the thin skin, that he knew he had to leave.  
“No, Luke. You.. You can’t.” He whispered, slowly standing from the bed, quick to grab and pull his t-shirt that had been removed somewhere along the process, on over his head; and hoped that Luke wouldn’t get angry in the morning that he smelled of Michael’s sweater.  
“Why M-Mikey?” Luke hiccupped, bursting into a fit of drunken giggles; “I love you”.  
Michael froze. This should be when those stupid butterflies should be fluttering on in. He should be sfeeling warm and fuzzy, the way the characters feel in his favourite books.  
Michael would trade anything to feel that now. Michael felt sick to the stomach. Used. His heart had been torn out and smashed on the ground into a million pieces.  
Painfully gulping down the lump in his throat, Michael offered Luke a half smile. It came out more broken than he had hoped, and that was proven by the expression on Luke’s face, whom looked like he had just been punched in the face.  
“I’m sorry. I can’t use you the way you use me.” he said soothingly, leaning down for one last kiss, before turning and running from the hotel room down the hall to the bathroom; ignoring drunken calls from Cashton returning.  
The door slammed behind Michael, as he slid down it- mentally punching himself for being so weak as to cry.  
Glancing to the mirror, he stared at his appearance. Ripped shirt, blood-shot eyes, tear-stained cheeks and messy hair.  
Michael spoke three last words.  
“You’re drunk, Hemmings.”

\------

Hey guys! This is just a small oneshot I wrote a few weeks ago. I didn't get any response on Devientart, or Wattpad, so was wondering if anyone on here could give any sort of.. response? Good or bad? Thankyou so much!! <3 So glad I finally made an account on here.


End file.
